


Rebuilding

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Bad Decisions, Betrayal, Dubious Consent, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 23:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: After the events of Infinity War are through, Loki seeks out the Grandmaster once more.





	Rebuilding

Loki stands in the fragmentary sprouts of grass, his hands loosely in his pockets. Above him rages a storm, rain falling down toward the ground in fat, heavy drops, and the air is alive with tension, the dark, barren earth turning rich and red and dark as rain pounds against it. 

Loki walks an inch or so above the ground, avoiding the fissures in the rock and stone, until he comes to the single building on this dead planet, the single building that is larger than life and built of gold brick, where the rain does not dare touch the metal.

He steps through an archway, moving inside, and he looks around at the bare, golden halls. Nothing decorates the walls or the floors yet, and Loki is utterly silent as he creeps further into the palace. He does not go unnoticed, of course: to the likes of them, there are greater senses available to the likes of them, and the Grandmaster knows the taste of Loki’s seidr on the air, just as Loki knows the taste of the Grandmaster’s golden magic.

_(“Where will you go?” Thor demands. Loki shrugs, as if he doesn’t know._

_“I’ll wander,” he lies. “Asgard was never the place for me.”_

_“Asgard is a people,” Thor says, echoing Heimdall’s words. “Not a place.”_

_“A people that hates me. Not a people I want to be amongst.”_

_“You ruled them. For two years. With— With kindness and with care.” Loki shrugs again._

_“Then I think I’ve served my sentence, don’t you?”_ )

The Grandmaster is leaning against a window arch with a glass of wine held in his hand, and he doesn’t turn to look at Loki, keeping his gaze on the storm outside. Soon, this planet – the New Sakaar – will be green and bright and shiny. This one isn’t cobbled together of trash and garbage... This one will be better.

“Your name,” Loki says, his voice echoing off the empty walls, “is En Dwi Gast.” The Grandmaster turns, arching his eyebrows in evident surprise. “I’ve just come from the Nova Corps... There are a few Elders knocking about, while this nonsense of the war calms down.”

“Tan-Tan told you my name, huh?” the Grandmaster asks softly. His expression is entirely neutral. As if Taneleer Tivan would give Loki _anything_.

“No,” Loki says. “The Possessor did – I offered him a look at my library, and he was sold.” The Grandmaster smiles, and the expression is distant, and dark: it doesn’t meet the golden glitter of his eyes, which stare hard. “I died, you know.”

“Did you?” the Grandmaster says. “Who, uh, brought you back?”

“Me.” He sees the shadow that passes over the Grandmaster’s face, sees the momentary confusion, and he adds, “Death and I have an arrangement.”

( _Loki gasps where he lies on his back on the battlefield, covered in his own blood and staring wildly about him. “Go, Father,” his daughter whispers in his ear. “All will be well.”)_

“What arrangement?” the Grandmaster demands, taking a step forward, and Loki mirrors him, closing a little of the gap between them. The Grandmaster’s brows furrow further, and he stares at Loki as if Loki is something entirely new, something different. It makes Loki’s skin prickle. “You know— You know what, sweetheart? I don’t care.”

“Did you miss me?” Loki asks mildly, taking a slow step forward. The fear is real, the fear that bubbles under his flesh, but he wouldn’t be here if the fear weren’t outweighed by a greater desire. He reaches out to touch, and the Grandmaster stays quite still: Loki’s hand touches the infernally hot surface of the Grandmaster’s chest, and he exhales at the burn upon his palm. He doesn’t draw away. “I missed you.”

“Aw,  _really_?” the Grandmaster asks softly, but his expression remains hard. “And yet... And yet, honey, you, uh, betrayed me. Took my ship, ran away—” Loki scoffs.

“You  _hurt_  me,” Loki replies mildly. “Burnt me with wax, used me as a party favour, threw me from one horror to the next as if I was nothing more than a  _toy_.” There is no guilt in the Grandmaster’s eyes: in fact, Loki sees the slightest bit of indignation.

“You  _liked_  it, honey,” the Grandmaster purrs. “No point, uh, beating around the bush with me. You wanted everything I did to you.”

“Not everything,” Loki murmurs. “But I wanted most of it.” It’s a lie. A lie he told Thor a thousand times - a lie he tells himself. Then why is he here? Because he wants to be. Can’t he have something he wants, just for once? Can’t it be something monstrous, and horrible, and beautiful? Guilt blooms in his belly, and he ignores it, slipping even closer, until both his hands are spread on the Grandmaster’s chest, so that he is made to look slightly up into the Grandmaster’s eyes. “Kill me if you wish. But... Asgard is made anew now, and I don’t belong there, no matter what Thor says. And I used to know a place for-- for lost things, but it’s gone now...”

The Grandmaster had been frozen until now, standing stiffly and not reciprocating the touch, but now his hand touches Loki’s cheek, the broad palm cupping the pale skin, his fingers playing over the pale flesh.

“Let me stay, won’t you?” Loki asks, softly. “No one else will take me.”

“You expect me to believe that, huh?” the Grandmaster asks lowly. “You expect me to fall for the, uh, damsel in distress shtick? I’m poor little  _Loki_ , and I can’t, uh, I can’t fend for myself?”

( _“Where’s he going?” Captain Rogers asks, and Loki glances up._

_“Somewhere better,” Loki answers before Thor can. “I don’t want to be on Asgard anymore – I was trapped there for a long time. To be entirely honest, Captain, I’ve had rather enough of being hated. I shall go somewhere where I will be loved.” Rogers stares at him, his lips parting, and he glances at Thor. Thor says nothing, his jaw set, his single eye dark with thought – he wears a patch like Father’s, now._

_“You want to get on our ship?” Rogers asks, quietly. “You could help us rebuild, back on the planet – we could use a guy with skills like yours, if you wanted to… To come back to Earth, with us.” Loki stares at him. The sentiment is touching – the idea is insane, and from the slightly wild look in Rogers’ eyes, he knows it._

_“Absolutely not,” Loki says softly. “But I am grateful for the offer.” Rogers looks relieved, but he still smiles at Loki, the expression sweet and warm and gentle.)_

“Why should I fend for myself when I have you to do it for me?” Loki asks. The Grandmaster’s fingers tighten their grip, moving to squeeze at Loki’s throat, and Loki chokes, recalling the way Thanos has  _squeezed_ , recalling the way he had died, the ugly cracking sound of his own demise-- “I came back,” he wheezes out. “Surely that’s worth  _something_.”

“What’s it worth, huh? New planet, new servants—”

“Same favourite,” Loki interrupts, his fingers fisting in the front of the Grandmaster’s robe. The Grandmaster’s grip at his throat is already loosening, and Loki swallows the creeping disgust on his skin at being held in such a way. “Please? Please, En Dwi?”

The Grandmaster’s lips part. “Aw, kitten, you’re... You’re really  _getting_  to me here.”

“You’ll have to punish me, of course,” Loki says readily. “But I think it’s worth it.” Norns, he is mad. He is mad, he is mad, he is  _madly in_ — Trouble. He can already see the delight shining in the Grandmaster’s eyes, the dangerous glint of new ideas, new horrors to inflict upon Loki, and Loki cannot bear the way his skin _electrifies_ at the thought.

“Why’d you come back, honey?” the Grandmaster asks in a whisper.

“I told you,” Loki says. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“There are— Honey, there are a _million_ places you could go.”

“Maybe,” Loki murmurs. “But you weren’t in any of them.” The Grandmaster chuckles, the sound quiet and indulgent, and then he kisses Loki – finally, finally. _Months_ of fighting on battlefields, months of setting refugees amidst the Nova Corps, months of rebuilding a realm he wanted no part of, going unkissed and untouched and _uninjured_ , and now here he is.

Back where he belongs.

The Grandmaster’s tongue is hot and burning with old magic, and Loki groans as takes it between his lips, leaning right into the kiss and gasping as the Grandmaster drags his teeth over Loki’s lower lip, narrowing everything down to one pinpoint of sensation, and Loki lets himself sink right into it.

“Don’t let me go again,” Loki whispers softly. “Don’t let me— Keep me right here.”

“I will,” the Grandmaster murmurs. “Oh, you— I _will_ , honey.” The words are dark and full of quiet venom, and Loki shudders to hear them, leaning in to draw kisses over the Grandmaster’s neck, bathing the column of his throat in affection.

The Grandmaster drags him by his hair to a conjured bed, and Loki leans easily into the agony that awaits him – so long as it is always sealed with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/faq). Requests always open.


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